The
focus of reaction to True Grit, whether it's the 1969 film or this one written and
directed by Joel and Ethan Coen, will inevitably rest with its heavy-drinkin',
hard-talkin', mostly straight-shootin', one-eyed U.S. Marshall Reuben
"Rooster" Cogburn. He is,
until his mandatory transformation in the eyes of the story's protagonist and
hence our own, the antithesis of the typical Western hero—not driven by
justice or the right and proper way of things but by the chance to earn money
and, of seemingly greater importance, confiscate some whiskey from the bad guys.

He
has "true grit," as Mattie Ross (Hailee Steinfeld), the young girl who
hires Rooster to help her capture the man who killed her father (It's an
important distinction, as opposed to hiring him to do the arresting himself)
calls it, and it becomes clear early on that the second part of that phrase is
meant in every way to signify a double meaning. Yes, he does show courage and resolve by the end, but until then, he is
abrasive and coarse and as unsympathetic as a stone to the concerns of others.

John
Wayne played the role in the first incarnation with as much gusto and bravura as
he could muster, and Jeff Bridges takes over here, portraying Rooster as a much
broader caricature. He takes the
harder, primary gist of "grit" and imbues it into his voice—a
gravelly, rambling mutter that suggests he has better things to consider right
now but thank you very much and please remove yourself from his presence.

The
Coens, adapting Charles Portis' novel, make the most out the early scenes,
establishing an elegiac tone with a prologue that tells the story of Mattie's
father's murder at the hands of the cowardly Tom Chaney (Josh Brolin) as the
camera slowly pans in on his lifeless body lying on the ground as a light snow
begins to fall. After that, though,
the film sheds its mourning garb, as Mattie encounters an undertaker whose idea
of compassion is insisting she may kiss her father's corpse if she likes and
witnesses a public hanging during which one of the condemned tearfully repents,
another wishes he had killed the right man instead, and the third, a
Native-American, can't even get a sentence out before the hood is
unceremoniously shoved over his head.

The
most important scene for determining Mattie's character is her encounter with a
stable owner (Dakin Matthews) whom she believes owes her family some money. Throwing figures back and forth—she incorporating on-the-fly logical
leaps and threatens legal action while he poses a "final" offer at
least three times—the two bandy words until it becomes crystalline that Mattie
is as determined as a person can be. Steinfeld's
focused, unwavering performance is the backbone of these opening scenes.

Rooster's
big moment is in the courtroom, where he attempts to assert his rightness of a
recent police action that left a man dead, shot by Cogburn, apparently, while
preparing food. He plays dumb until
it's clear the lawyer has done his homework, and then Rooster gets down
business—joking (laughing, almost in a surprised way, at his own sense of
humor), defensive, and, ultimately, a bit feeble as the attorney undoes him.

Mattie
hires Rooster to hunt down Chaney, who has escaped into Indian terroitory and
taken up with a man Cogburn has been chasing for a long time "Lucky"
Ned Pepper (Barry Pepper), and Texas Ranger LaBoeuf (Matt Damon), hunting Chaney
for another matter and reward, tags along against Mattie's disapproval. It's vitally important to her that Chaney face justice for her father's
death.

Just
like the original film, once the trio head on their way, the story is slight. The bantering between Rooster and LaBoeuf and Cogburn's unique ways and
past (He drones stories of his past to Mattie, as though he hasn't had anyone
new to tell them to for years) overshadow Mattie. The characters stay locked in their respective places as they amble in
the footsteps of Chaney and Pepper, happening upon people strange (a man in a
bearskin coat who collects the teeth of dead men), sights mysterious (a man hung
from the highest branch of a tree), and events violent (In the interior of a
cabin, two criminals show how little honor there is between them, while a bit
later outside, there's a shoot-out). Then
it becomes about Rooster, making a minor shift from a likeable drunkard to a
likeable hero, his surrogate-father relationship to Mattie left unspoken and,
except for a late-night ride with her in his arms, unexplored.

Even
so, the Coens have a way with the little oddities, and their command of the
straightforward, formal language, the imposing isolation of the setting (aided
much by Roger Deakins' bare cinematography), and the strong if unfulfilled setup
of the central characters is keen. True Grit, nearly on par with the original film, is a reliable, if
insubstantial, genre piece.